The Fun Quotient... from Paris!

So, did you hear that I made an unexpected journey to Paris? 

My daughter Katie (who is studying in London this semester) met me there for a girl's getaway! (I had to skip last's week's Among Women, so I could go be "among women".) That's she and me atop the Arc de Triomphe... yeah, it was a bit breezy up there! 

(Eiffel Tower in the background.)

Katie and her new friend, "Mona" in the background. 

(You gotta get up pretty early to visit that exhibit with so few art patrons around!)

One of my favorite stops on the tour, the basilica on Montmartre, Sacra Coeur.  Read my Patheos column this week for mention of it. We went at night to get a lovely evening glimpse of the city from that high vantage point.  Perpetual Adoration has been going on there for 125 years! Amazing!

Oui, there was wine and cheese...

And cheesecake, and cafe au lait...

(There are more pictures still stuck in daughter's camera!) 

Have a good weekend!

Pilgrim Feet: Stompin' up the stairs at Sacre Coeur

My latest Patheos column, A Word in Season, touches on the beauty of making a pilgrimage, with a brief recollection of my recent trip to Sacre Coeur in Paris...

My feet hurt, and I am grateful. It’s a sign I’m still moving. And movement -- any forward motion -- even when slowed by aching feet, is pilgrimage-worthy.  

I am three months into a physical sojourn from surgery repairing a tendon in my ankle, from which my surgeon announced: “It will be six months until you feel better.”

Still, last week, armed with my trusty cane, and the encouragement of my 21-year old daughter, I flew to Paris for a reunion with her and a pilgrimage to a few sacred places I have loved. One of those places was Sacre Coeur, the basilica dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, where continuous adoration of the Blessed Sacrament has taken place for 125 years.

Set on the region’s highest hill, Montmartre, where tradition holds St. Denis (the first Bishop of Paris) and his 3^rd century companions were martyred, Sacra Coeur commands sweeping views of Paris and its environs. And to reach it, it’s all up hill.

Together my daughter and I climbed the familiar mighty steps, thankful that my foot had healed enough to make the trip. Upon reaching the top, we found someone else had made the climb… a gentle beggar with no legs at the door of the great church. I placed an offering in his tin cup and proceeded inside, grateful even more for the gift of aching feet and the opportunity to kneel before the Blessed Sacrament. 

The rest is here.